


Saving Grace

by CrossroadProphet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossroadProphet/pseuds/CrossroadProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael stands there and watches. He doesn't say much, he rarely does anymore. Adam's lucky the man's still a warrior at heart, otherwise he's not even sure he would be able to fight off the Croats with him anymore. </p><p>He's falling, and the ground isn't that far away anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thirtyspells (weatherveyn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherveyn/gifts).



> Prompt for the SRS Bonus Round 0.5:  
> Adam/Michael; Zombie Apocalypse; Adam patches Michael up after a skirmish.

"You're bleeding."

That was the first hint there was something potentially wrong. Michael looks down at his arm to see his sleeve drenched in blood just as Adam runs up to him. The younger survivor is still clenching his rifle as he grabs Michael's wrist.

"Did it bleed on you? Fuck, Michael. What did you do?"

And that's just it, Michael doesn't know. He doesn't remember what cut him. The fights are always a blur. It's constant running and hiding broken up by fights and traps left behind by Croats. 

And ever since he took this vessel, a man who could barely contain him, to look after Adam until he said yes to put an end to all of this he's felt his connection with heaven weaken. He can't smite the infected. It knocks him out to transport him and Adam out of danger. Raphael shut heaven on them all after Sam said yes, and now Michael's struggling to remain the angel he was.

He looks down at the blood on his arm, Adam's already torn his sleeve up to look at the cut. It's pretty bad, and Michael doesn't know if it's from a Croat, his own sword, or something else along the way.

Adam keeps a firm hold on his wrist and starts yanking Michael out of the street. "Come on. We need to get out of here before they come looking for their friends." Two dead Croats lay at their feet, but Adam knows there's got to be at least six more and wounded Michael is an easy target. He drags him over to the abandoned pharmacy up the road. He doesn't expect there's much still left in there of use, but it's got to have something.

They hole up in the back room, Adam shoves shelves bigger than his skinny, apocalypse starved frame should be able to handle in front of the door out of pure necessity. Michael stands there and watches. He doesn't say much, he rarely does anymore. Adam's lucky the man's still a warrior at heart, otherwise he's not even sure he would be able to fight off the Croats with him anymore. He's falling, and the ground isn't that far away anymore.

"Sit down and give me your arm," the former pre-med student says as he collects a handful of probably expired things off the shelves that are better than nothing.

Michael sits on a crate and pulls his sleeve up, smearing the blood still falling from his arm. He shouldn't be able to bleed. Shouldn't be able to be infected. Can he even be infected, or does the lingering angel blood keep him safe? They've wondered that in the past, back when Michael still spoke. Now he's quiet. Always watching, but nothing else. Adam's more likely to see a knife thrown past his head into the face of the Croat sneaking up on him than he is to hear Michael warn him of the threat.

"Fuck," Adam curses as he cleans the blood up, trying to clear the wound so he can see just how deep it is. "Looks like you tore yourself on something, you hit that fence we slipped under, didn't you?" Michael shrugs. "Just great, that thing was rusted over and crap." 

He kept cleaning the wound. He couldn't stitch it here, it probably needed stitching. He hoped gauze and tape would do. He hoped that it's all he'd need to fix Michael. He glanced up at the angel, Michael was watching him. There was something in the man's eyes that didn't belong there.

Adam sat back. "You know something..."

Michael pulls his arm in and traces his fingers over the bandage.

"God damn it, Michael. I'm tired of the silent shit you're pulling. I know you still have a voice in there, I hear you whispering in that fucking angel language every night. So tell me what you're thinking or so help me I'll leave your ass here."

Michael looks up at him and licks his lips. His voice is rough when he finally speaks in more than a whisper to the family that had given up on him. “I believe there may have been blood of the infected on that fence.”

Adam’s eyes go wide. He stands, his hand almost instinctively reaching for the rifle he’s come to master since he was resurrected and this shit started. “So… you gonna turn like the rest of them?”

Michael doesn’t meet his eyes. “There’s sulfer in my blood, Adam. Right now it’s slow, what’s left of my grace is trying to stop it, but yes. I believe it’s safer if you leave me here.”

Adam shakes his head. “No. You’re a fucking angel, Michael. You can’t be infected by this. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not right.”

“I’m hardly an angel anymore.”

“You’re the fucking Prince of Heaven. You’re the whole reason I’m alive in this hell hole again.”

“This vessel is weak. I’ve been doing everything I can to keep it from falling apart. This virus… It’s Pestilence’s doing. I can’t compete with it, not how I am now.”

Adam throws his arms in the air, pacing the room, “Then leave! Go back to heaven. You let this thing get you and Lucifer wins, Michael.”

“I can’t go back. Heaven is closed.”

“Raphael won’t let you in?”

“Raphael won’t risk letting Lucifer in.”

“Your brothers are dicks,” he scoffs.

“He is following my orders.”

That stops Adam. He turns and looks at Michael, confusion painted in red across his face. “But you said you were down here because you were stuck after you came to see me.”

“I knew if I could not get you to say yes while I was down here, then there was no point in returning to heaven. I cannot fight Lucifer while he wears your brother. If keeping him out of heaven means sacrificing myself, then that is what I must do to protect my family.” 

He looks down at his arm and clenches his hand. “You should leave me here, Adam. There’s a very small chance I can overcome this, but you shouldn’t be here to watch. Just in case it doesn’t work. Go find your brother, Dean. Tell him what’s happened. He should be in South Dakota, an old camp ground with the prophet and my brother, Castiel.”

“I’m not just going to leave you here…” Adam says, still trying to shake the confusion. Michael was telling him he was going to die. Michael was prepared for this, the last two years they’d been running and Michael knew what was going to come from it.

“You have no other choice. You either leave me here or I will send you to Dean myself.”

“That will kill you,” Adam reasons. “You waste that mojo on me and you’re as good as dead if you’re infected.”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe...”

The folding chair Adam had sat on is kicked aside and Adam is suddenly in front of Michael, down on his knees before the first son of God. His hands rest on Michael’s thighs. “You’re so stupid…”

Michael quirks the smallest of smiles and runs his hand through Adam’s hair. “I guess that makes me human then, doesn’t it?”

Adam wants to cry; because the great Prince of Heaven is cracking a joke, because the great Prince of Heaven is nothing more than a poor heaven forsaken bastard like the rest of them now. He hides his face in the man’s chest. 

He and Michael had been nothing but partners in the apocalypse. The first few days were filled with arguments, Michael trying to get Adam to say yes. Those fights ended quickly when survival became harder. Michael found Adam a gun, taught him how to shoot, and their own sort of camaraderie formed from there. They made a good team. Adam had become a good shot in almost no time, as though marksmanship was an inheritable trait he’d picked up from John along with his stubbornness. Michael was a natural fighter when it came to close combat. They worked well together.

And even when Michael had started to fade, become more distant, they still looked out for each other in their own way. They had no one else to trust. Heaven didn’t have their back and the few survivors they ran with from time to time always ended up leaving because Michael freaked them out. But Adam had silently promised not to leave the angel behind. He didn’t think he’d last as long as he had if not for him.

“You’re not human.”

“Adam…”

“There’s still one other option.”

Michael’s brow knitted together. “I don’t see what else can be done. You either need to leave me here, give me a chance to fight this on my own, or you kill me.”

“Or,” Adam said, slowly picking his head up to face Michael. “Or I let you in.”

“Adam… You know what this means.”

“I know. It means you can get out of that body, and that you can stop Lucifer. You can fix this…”

“It won’t be easy on you. You’re better off leaving me here.”

“Leaving you here so I can continue to live in a zombie ravaged America? How is that better, jerk?”

Michael sat quietly, continued to card his hand through Adam’s hair. Neither of them said a word. 

“Adam Milligan… Son of John Winchester and Kate Milligan… you are a strange child.”

“Hey,” Adam said with a small, bitter laugh. “I’m human.”

“And this is what you want? To save me from being human?”

“What I want… is to give other people a chance at being human again.”

Michael smiled and gently tilted Adam’s face up to his. He knew every feature of the boy’s face by now, every shadow in his eyes, and even knew every jagged corner of the scar on his forehead from six months ago. This was the face of a boy who gave up heaven to fight the devil, only to fight the angels when he realized even they were not as perfect as he once hoped. This was the face of a man who was willing to give up everything he had left to save the world, to save the poor excuse of an angel in front of him.

Michael leaned in and whispered, “Close your eyes, Adam.” Adam did so and Michael pressed their lips together. It was brief, a small kiss with a thousand words of gratitude woven in that ended with a flash of blinding light.


End file.
